


Only My Hands

by whereismygarden



Series: Reflections universe [2]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Childbirth, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8173177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereismygarden/pseuds/whereismygarden
Summary: Just as the crew retakes control of Destiny from the Alliance, the colonel goes into labor. Set after "Intervention."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Reflections](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3332774) by [Potboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potboy/pseuds/Potboy). 



> This chapter is mostly a childbirth scene: I don't think it's graphic at all (I gave it a G rating), but take care if that's something that might bother you.

                  Evelyn was pretty sure she was about to go into labor. She’d had the small contractions before, but these seemed different. She touched the bandage on her forehead gingerly. Maybe being knocked unconscious earlier had done this. Barnes was going around the infirmary checking bandages, while two doctors in Volker and Wray’s bodies were busy re-stitching TJ’s wound and checking James for lasting damage from the fall he’d had.

                  She lifted her radio to her mouth. “Elly, report.”

                  “Well, Rush and Brody seem to be fixing everything the Lucians screwed up.” Elly sounded exhausted. She had a right to be, Evelyn figured, having dragged Cole half the length of Destiny and then helped take back the ship.

                  “Good,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

                  “Fine. You know, completely terrified over the whole situation, but fine.” Even her flippant remarks sounded worn down.

                  “Get some rest,” Evelyn said. Rush and the rest of the team could handle the repairs. She needed some rest herself. Maybe a few hours before she actually went into labor, so that she wouldn’t collapse of exhaustion during the event. She’d hardly closed her eyes, though, before TJ walked unsteadily over to her and gave her a faint smile.

                  “I need to change your bandage,” he said. “I’m shipshape, according to Brightman, and Barnes is busy with Telford.” Evelyn kept her face impassive as he pulled off the bandage and looked over the scrape on her forehead. “It’s clean,” was all he said, and smeared some sort of half-baked antiseptic over it, which stung.

                  “That some of your alien medicine?” she asked. He’d come back from Novus will all kinds of things.

                  “Yes,” he said absently, frowning at her. She startled when he picked up her hand and put two fingers to her wrist. “Your heartrate’s up.”

                  “Yeah,” she said. “Actually, I think the baby may be coming soon.”

                  TJ dropped her wrist and stared in shock for a moment, then turned and marched over to Volker-as-Brightman. Evelyn bit her lip and tried to even her breathing through another contraction. As far as she could tell, they were about ten minutes apart, far too early to worry about.

                  Brightman unceremoniously ordered most of the people in the infirmary out, allowing James and Telford to stay. Volker’s mild face looked sharply focused as Brightman told Evelyn to take her boots and jacket off.

                  “You’re going to sweat a lot. I want you on IV fluids right away, since you’ve just been concussed and stranded in a storm. I guess there’s no chance of a proper delivery gown here.”

                  “Becker has that dress thing she made for butchering any game we might one day catch,” TJ said thoughtfully. “It’s pretty sterile and she’s big enough that it might fit you.”

                  “Does it matter?” Evelyn said, looking away as TJ swabbed over her arm and slid a cold needle inside.

                  “You can’t give birth in BDUs, colonel,” Brightman said. “In fact, I suggest you take them off now so that your water doesn’t break all over them. And I need to see how far you’re dilated.”

                  Evelyn was starting to feel hassled and unfortunate, protected only by the hanging-up of sheets by Barnes, and the wide cloth Brightman draped over her from stomach to just above her knees. The cold of the IV saline going into her arm was making her feel vaguely ill, as well. TJ was paying an undue amount of attention to something on the counter to her right. She couldn’t quite blame him for that: not when Brightman was standing right in front of them.

                  There was the sound of footsteps, and Barnes protesting something, and then a sharp, “Get the hell out of my way, corporal.” Then Telford, looking worse for wear and with her shirt rolled up to accommodate a bandage, was pushing past the curtain.

                  “I sent Barnes to move James somewhere, so you can have some privacy,” she said. “Bad timing, Evelyn.” She dragged a chair so that she was sitting down next to Evelyn’s bed. “Good thing I made it.”

                  Evelyn didn’t even try to bite back the smile that broke out over her face. “Good to see you’re on your feet, Davina.” She didn’t look like herself in the civilian clothes that Rush had picked out, but her sharp-eyed gaze was as snappingly aggressive as ever, and she had knotted her raven-black hair into her usual braided bun. Her eyes were bloodshot but she was firmly upright.

                  “I’m here to hold your hand,” she said, and turned to undo Evelyn’s falling-apart bun. Brightman was peering between her legs.

                  “You’re only just starting to dilate. I expect you’ll have a long time, so when the IV’s done, you can take a shower and maybe walk around a little to speed things up.”

                  There was a stinging feeling beginning between her legs, so the news that this was probably going to take a long time was especially unwelcome. And everything she’d ever heard was that it was only getting worse from here. Davina was busy braiding her hair down her back and out of her face, and shooting hard looks at TJ whenever he looked over.

                  “That’s not necessary,” Evelyn said quietly, when Brightman was conferring with him over something. Telford sniffed.

                  “He needs to straighten himself out before he makes it obvious,” she muttered in return.

                  The next hour was just an increase in the painful stinging in her vagina, more contractions, and a deep, unshakeable ache settling in her lower back, like a more unfriendly version of a menstrual cramp. Brightman noted that she was dilating at a slow but reasonable rate, and allowed Telford to walk her to the showers next to the infirmary, towel pinned around her waist.

                  “I’ve never delivered a woman who’s been awake for so long, with head trauma,” Brightman said. “So I’d prefer if someone stayed with you the entire time.”

                  The shower did make her feel better, even though scraping off dirt and sweat in the warm artificial mist of Destiny’s bathrooms still didn’t feel as nice as real hot showers did. Davina was on the radio with the science team and Scott, and Evelyn agreed that leaving the Lucian Alliance members in a room until the crew was back on their feet was the best course of action.

                  “Greer has shaped up,” Davina said, handing her the strange garment Becker had made. “Put your jacket on over it, I guess. She’s coordinating the guards on the Alliance.” Evelyn hadn’t felt so undignified in a long time as she draped her jacket over her shoulders. She was too hot to put it on.

                  “Take a breather before you go getting aggressive with my crew, Davina,” she said tiredly. “Greer is none of your business right now.” If Davina thought she was going to run Destiny just because Evelyn was going into labor—well, it was maybe a natural conclusion to draw, and Evelyn desperately wanted to say ‘you take care of things,’ but she was the mission commander, even if only accidentally. And Telford had just been accused of, confessed to, and partially absolved of treason in the last thirty hours. She was in no position to lead Destiny.

                  Davina, to her credit, didn’t say anything further, just let Evelyn hold her arm on the walk back to the infirmary. She had dark shadows under her eyes like everyone else, but was powering through in true SGC never-let-them-see-you-bleed fashion. Evelyn tried not to lean on her too much.

                  Brightman took her pulse and her temperature and shook Volker’s head.

                  “You need to sit down and eat something. You would need rest with a head wound anyway, and you’re in labor. The baby will come regardless. It’s important that you sit and save your energy.”

                  Evelyn ate some rice cracker-like rations that apparently had been in the pack of one of the Lucians while Telford left to check on the science team. James was chewing some as well when he came by, back on his feet.

                  “Colonel, TJ is checking on the civilians and Scott is keeping everyone calm. She says everything is well in hand. I can give reports whenever you need them.”

                  “And you’re okay?” Evelyn asked. She wasn’t sure her usual combination of flat tone and genuine concern for her crew’s wellbeing was holding up in the face of contractions, headache, and exhaustion, but James nodded.

                  “Yes ma’am.”

                  “Everyone’s exhausted. Tell Scott to put everyone on shortened shifts so people can at least nap. I’m going to be busy for a little while. Make sure TJ keeps updating Dr. Brightman and me on any injuries.”

                  Evelyn was certain she was experiencing a new type of tired energy. Not even when she had been an overworked cadet had she ever felt so tired, yet so awake. Her eyes ached, her whole body ached in a way that demanded sleep, but the cramps and contractions kept her alert.

                  “Davina,” she said into the radio. “Come here.”

                  Telford appeared shortly, leaning slightly into her stomach wound. Evelyn frowned.

                  “You need to rest at least a little.” Telford sat down, pushing the chair against the infirmary wall. “After I have this baby I’m going to be out of commission for a few hours.”

                  “Evelyn, relax. Everyone’s alive, there are guards outside where the Lucians are, and even Rush and Wray are too tired to scheme. They’ll make it a few hours while you sleep, incursion or not.”

                  “What did TJ say about your side?” she asked, trying to tell herself that Davina was right.

                  “He said it would be fine, if I didn’t aggravate it too much. I’m all stitched and sterilized.” Telford gave her a sharp look. “Do you want him here? Brightman won’t be back until you need to be delivered. Volker’s resting.”

                  Evelyn put her hand over her eyes.

                  “I don’t think I’m thinking straight,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I want to see him.”

                  “Here,” Davina held a cup of water to her lips. “Drink.” She took Evelyn’s hand and squeezed it gently.

                  “Were you really sleeping with Emerson?” Evelyn asked, the metal tang of the water familiar and soothing. Telford looked away, grimacing.

                  “It wasn’t that kind of seduction,” she said. “Though it would have been, eventually. I’m sorry it happened.”

                  “Sorry, it wasn’t your fault,” Evelyn mumbled. It had definitely been Davina’s tactic, though, regardless of how brainwashed she’d been. It still stung that that had been the angle she’d chosen.

                  Contemplation of her assuredly botched marriage was cut short by a breathtakingly powerful contraction. Evelyn gasped, hand tightening around Davina’s.

                  “God,” she said, drawing her free hand across her forehead, wiping away a considerable amount of fresh, cold sweat. “That was—augh!”

                  “TJ, get up here,” Telford snapped into the radio. “And get Brightman.”

                  Evelyn gritted her teeth against another contraction—it was really something how she could feel them build and then break, completely outside of her control. Davina’s hand flexed under hers, and she squeezed, trying to find some release from the tension building again.

                  “You got this,” Davina said quietly. “I did not see your sorry Midwestern ass through training, bombings, and three wars with aliens to watch you fail to woman up during childbirth in space.” Evelyn tried to laugh, but the attempt was lost in another groan. Davina’s bloodshot, tired eyes didn’t reveal any worry, but then that was seventy-five percent of being an officer.

                  TJ entered, face pale, with Volker on his heels.

                  “Lieutenant, you’re supposed to take it easy,” Brightman’s demeanor was unmistakable. “If you rip your stitches you’re no use to anyone.”

                  “I’m still ranking medical officer,” he said, with an approximation of his usual calm. “Cole is resting, Barnes can handle the scrapes and has James to help him.” He stopped on Evelyn’s other side and put a hand on her shoulder. “How do you feel, colonel?”

                  “Awful,” Evelyn said, closing her eyes as another contraction broke through her. She felt TJ’s cool hand on her forehead for a moment.

                  “You’re still sweating, so you’re not dangerously dehydrated,” he said softly. “That’s good.”

                  Brightman was busy looking between her legs, but she raised her head from under the cloth and smiled at Evelyn.

                  “Well, you’ve got less than thirty minutes to go, I think. And the baby’s pointed in the right direction, so I don’t need to complicate things by trying to turn it.” For a second, her expression looked more like Volker, a little uncertain. “I didn’t specialize in obstetrics: no one at the SGC did, so you get trauma medics to deliver your baby.”

                  Evelyn bit back another scream and shifted her feet, the bones in Davina’s hand creaking under her grip. Brightman was back to her usual briskness.

                  “You’re going to be more comfortable if you squat,” she said. “These beds aren’t designed for this, so I’d prefer you to be on the floor. We’re gonna have to do this the medieval way, bricks and straw. Colonel, you’re less wounded than Lieutenant Johansen, so if you could brace Colonel Young…”

                  Evelyn was vaguely aware that squatting with her feet on ammo boxes secured to the floor, with blankets beneath her, was one of the most undignified moments in her life, but she didn’t care. Everything between her stomach and knees was in agony, so much that the only things she could feel were the contractions and the unbearable urge to push down. Even the exhaustion was being stripped away to reveal almost unbearable clarity.

                  “Nnnnngh!” She pushed her head back against Davina’s shoulder, needing something to brace herself against. The baby was nearly here, she could feel it in her own heartbeat.

                  “Come on, push,” Brightman and TJ were saying together. Evelyn blinked as sweat dripped into her eyes, tried to dredge up the last of her strength. She might have her best friend and the baby’s father encouraging her, but she had to finish this herself. She would have cursed both of them if she could find the energy to speak, but her jaw had locked tight.

                  _You’re not going to be alone after this_ , she thought. _Everything you do will be for your child. Every mission, every battle, every discovery, every star for them._ That was what the Stargate program was supposed to be about, and now it was sharp and real and distilled down to a single lucid point in her fragmented thoughts, a single person.

                  She swore and screamed and pushed according to Brightman and TJ’s orders, and then suddenly the pressure was much less, and Davina shouted in her ear, and then Brightman was holding something bloody and squirming in her hands.

                  “Is it--?” Evelyn panted, sagging back against Telford. Her feet were stinging from being pressed against the seams of the boxes, a new sensation now that the overpowering pain of the actual delivery was over. There was a thin cry, and TJ gave a stifled sob.

                  “He’s breathing great,” Brightman said, a hint of tears in her voice. “Good color, good heartbeat.”

                  Evelyn half stood and was half carried back into the bed, and Brightman placed her son into her arms.

                  “Oh, God,” she said, touching his tiny nose with her fingertip. There was still bits of placenta and God only knew in his hair, and wasn’t that amazing? He had wispy damp yellow hair, bright like TJ’s. And unfocused blue eyes in a red face, and a small yawning mouth. A tiny hand wrapped around her finger and he gave another wavering cry. Evelyn felt tears overflow and run down her face, and she took a deep breath, drawing him close. She was so lucky. He had waited until they were back on Destiny, until the ship was secure, and the crew was safe. “You’ve got a hell of a sense of time,” she told him, and looked up at the touch of Brightman’s hand on her shoulder.

                  “He’s probably hungry,” she said gently.

                  “Yeah,” Evelyn mumbled, and brought him up to her breast. She felt electrically alive, as if she had just flown out of a firefight with one engine gone, and tremendously exhausted, all sorts of pains settling in on her. “I’m going to fall asleep.”

                  “We’ll be here,” Brightman said. Evelyn looked up to see Telford and TJ eyeing each other distrustingly, blood seeping through the bandages both were wearing around their stomachs. TJ looked like a Renaissance painting of an apostle, sorrowful and peaceful and brilliant, and his eyes kept coming back to his son. Davina looked like an empress, fierce even in civilian clothes and with a black, uncompromising stare.

                  Evelyn looked away from both of them, down at her son. She would be even more single-minded in her defense of him, and they were both lucky to have such fierce guardians as the two standing in the infirmary. The whole crew, she thought, would close round to protect him. Who wouldn’t? The child suckling at her now was more than she had expected or imagined, more than she had ever hoped to be blessed with in her life.

                  “I want to name him Bryce,” she said, remembering the careful strength of her grandfather as he showed her how to dig a garden, train a dog, fix an engine, shoot a gun, and sew a seam. He had watched the news with her when she was home from college and Sally Ride had been the first American woman in space. He had died when she was stationed in Bosnia, and she had come home to a grave on a high hill on the family ranch. He had loved the stars, and he had loved all their family. Bryce was a good name to give.

                  She drew the soft blanket Elly and Cole had made from a pair of flannel plaid pajamas closer around Bryce and let her eyes slide closed. They weren’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Probably got some stuff wrong about the birth, like not mentioning the water breaking, or afterbirth, or much, but it's not meant to be a perfectly accurate depiction of labor. I will probably write more installments about the immediate aftermath of this, because I think the crew's reaction is gonna be fun to explore.
> 
> The author is still fiercely into fem!Telford, sorry if it was overpoweringly obvious. I thought she would actually be a big help during the delivery, as someone who was Evelyn's equal in terms of rank as well as a friend, and therefore someone she could lean on. 
> 
> Deciding on a title was tough, but the honor went to a line from Vienna Teng's "Now Three." _'love, love, love is a word so small...'_


End file.
